


it's always been you

by sneakygoat



Category: South Park
Genre: Angst, Bad Ideas, Fluff, Jealousy, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Pining, Rating May Change, Slow Build, Tags May Change, Underage Drug Use, Underage Smoking
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-01
Updated: 2018-08-02
Packaged: 2019-05-31 15:54:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 4,921
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15122819
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sneakygoat/pseuds/sneakygoat
Summary: 100+ one word prompts about Kyle and his journey through life





	1. butter

**Author's Note:**

> definition: [noun] a pale yellow edible fatty substance made by churning cream and used as a spread or in cooking

It was one of those rare nights where he was almost totally alone. His parents were at some town meeting and he was old enough to stay home and watch Ike. This, of course, meant binge watching Terrance and Phillip reruns and filling up on popcorn instead of the meal his mother prepared earlier. The food was sitting in the fridge, neatly wrapped in tinfoil. 

As he stood in the kitchen waiting for the popcorn to finish cooking, he thought of a (seemingly) genius idea. Once the microwave beeped, he grabbed some butter from the fridge and cut a chunk out of it. He then took a handful of popcorn and surrounded the butter with it. Before the butter could melt, he shoved the concoction into his mouth. Very quickly he realized his mistake, running to the trash can to spit it out. 

For once, he was glad the guys weren't around, this was not one of his smarter moments in life. He shoved the bag of popcorn into the trash can with disgust, it'd be at least a week before he could eat it again. In an almost defeated manner, he pulled out his mother's cooking, reheating it before handing a plate to Ike. He plopped on to the couch; at least he was still able to watch Terrance and Phillip.


	2. squash

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> definition: [verb] crush or squeeze (something) with force so that it becomes flat, soft, or out of shape.

Kyle let out a frustrated sigh as he squashed his clay project for the fifth time that day. He hated working with clay and he hated his (stupid) art teacher for making them work with it again. The issue was that he could not, for the life of him, make it perfect. One side always ended up lopsided or he'd spread the clay too thin or he'd find some other miniscule detail that he deemed unacceptable. It should be simple, it was supposed to be a bowl, the teacher even said bowls were easy to make. 

Again, he started over, grumbling to himself over how much work it was. It was a bowl, a goddamned bowl, and he was determined to do it right. A more logical part of him commented that it didn't really matter and the teacher would give out an A regardless of how it looked. Still, he reworked it over and over until it was basically perfect. Quickly, he ran to the teacher to tell her it was ready to be put in the kiln. When he came back to grab his creation, he found it was in Cartman’s grubby little fat hands. 

“Don't you fucking dare!” he yelled, and Cartman smiled. 

“Oh this? Don't worry, I won't let it drop, Kyle.” He could hear the lie in the others voice, but didn't want to risk grabbing at it in fear of ruining it. 

“Let it go, fatass!” 

“Okay, okay, fine,” he said.

So, he did. It dropped to the floor with a wet thud, and Kyle felt his frustration and anger boil over. 

“Cartman, you fat goddamn piece of shit!” Kyle lunged.


	3. shallow

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> definition: [adj.] of little depth

The shallow bathtub was filled to the brim, threatening to spill over. Kyle stood in it, the water reaching his ankles as the hot shower spray hit his back. He'd been in there for over an hour, not caring if others needed to use the bathroom. He just needed to stare off into space alone. The shower was his refuge from his own confusing feelings. 

They had erupted when Stan had rejected his offer to spend the night in favor of going to someone else's house. It's not like they had plans that weekend, but still Kyle was filled with a sickening feeling. That feeling had stuck with him throughout the school day, worsening as time went on. He almost felt bitter. What did that person have that he didn't? 

He let his forehead rest against the wall of the shower, only moving when his mom came knocking on the door and ordering him to come out. He twisted around and shut the water off, watching it slowly swirl down the drain. 

Kyle knew what he was feeling was, in some way, illogical even if he couldn't identify what it was. And yet, he still felt that rock in the pit of his stomach. Kyle shook his head and wrapped a towel around his waist before leaving for his room. He quietly hoped Stan would be in there, sitting on his bed or something. He wasn't there, of course, he was at some dumb kids house, living it up with his apparent new best friend. 

Not bothering to put on pyjamas, he shoved his face into his pillow. He willed himself to fall asleep, trying to ignore that prickly feeling that had been there all day. 

The next day, it was like all was forgiven and he felt stupid for ever doubting the strength of his friendship with Stan.


	4. fish

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> definition: [verb] to engage in a search by groping or feeling

“Dude, do you have it?” Stan asked excitedly and Kyle scoffed. 

“Of course I do.” He fished into his pocket and brought out a slightly bent cigarette. He had gotten it from one of the goth kids, this would be their second time doing this. This time would be different, though, and already it was. Instead of the four of them, it was only Stan and Kyle this time. They were just outside the South Park town limits, hidden by a small patch of trees. They had staked it out the spot for days just to make sure absolutely no one went there frequently. 

They cleared a spot out from the thin layer of snow underneath a tree and sat down, side by side. Stan produced a lighter from his pocket and gave Kyle the honor of lighting it. He hesitated.

“Don't be such a pussy, dude.” 

“Fuck off,” Kyle snapped and he lit the cigarette. 

The first hit was rough for the both of them, coughing until their cheeks were bright red. They very quickly learned that inhaling less made it significantly easier on their lungs. 

“Don't these things take fifteen minutes off your life or something?” Stan asked after the fourth or fifth puff. 

“Technically, we’re only smoking half a cigarette each.”

“Yeah?” 

“Well, yeah, dude. If we both take equal hits off of this, then we'd have only smoked half.” Kyle felt completely confident with that answer, it just made sense.

“What's half of fifteen?” 

“I don't know, dude, seven? Seven and a half? Something like that.”

After that, a comfortable silence permeated around them. When they finished the cigarette, Kyle’s head felt just so slightly fuzzy and it seemed like he could only feel Stan's warmth. The latter was most likely due to the cold weather, but Kyle likened it to something else. Something more than it probably was. He felt content in that moment, as if nothing could ruin it.  
His ears perked when Stan suddenly chuckled. 

“What?”

“Nothing, it's just that Wendy’s gonna be pissed at me for this.” 

Just hearing her name ruined the moment he previously thought was impervious to ruining. Out of pure selfishness, he said, 

“Who says you gotta tell her? It's not like we're ever gonna do this again anyway.” Stan looked as if he were going to argue before nodding in agreement. 

“Yeah, you're right.”


	5. hurt

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> definition: [verb] to cause physical pain or anguish

“Guys, I think I'm cursed or something,” Kyle said, breaking the silence as they waited for the school bus to come. He huffed indignantly when they guys laughed. 

“I'm serious! I feel like I could die today if I'm not careful!” 

Kenny snorted and gave a muffled retort of “yeah, right.”

“What's so hard to believe about it? Crab people exist, so why can't curses?!” 

“Look, Kyle, magic isn't real, you said yourself that everything has a logical explanation before,” Stan said, trying to let his friend down easy. Kyle sighed, and his shoulders sagged. 

“If you guys won't believe me, then I'll just deal with it myself!” 

And he did, he avoided anything sharp, anything dangling above him, he even refused to eat anything he didn't bring himself. He didn't exactly know why he felt as if he were in danger today, it was the exact same as any other day, but he learned not to ignore his instincts. Usually when his gut told him something bad was going to happen, it did. Every time he ignored it, the outcome was a lot worse than it could have been.

Today, he had woken up with a weird twinge in his chest and his right arm feeling like static. He knew something was going to happen to him specifically, he just knew it. 

To his surprise, school ended without major injury, the only mark on him was a small papercut on the tip of his finger. While he wasn't out of the woods yet, he felt like he could relax a little. That is, until his friends were up in a tree, urging him to climb it as well. 

“Come on, Kyle, even Cartman’s fat ass climbed up!” 

“Ay! Don't call me fat!” 

Kyle bit his lip, trying to think of a way to get out of it without getting ripped on too hard. 

“I mean, aren't we a little old to be climbing trees?” 

“The simple truth of the matter is that Jews can't climb trees, and Kyle can't admit it,” Cartman said smugly. Kyle gritted his teeth, deciding on what he had to do to get out of this. 

“I can too climb trees, fat ass!” he yelled, and started to lecture. Not really about anything, it was just a way to divert the attention away from his refusal to climb the damned tree. What he didn't notice, though, was the sound of a tree branch cracking. The tree branch that Cartman was sitting on, right above where Kyle stood. 

Within an instant, he was on the ground and felt the wind get knocked out of him. Distantly, he registered a sound similar to that of gravel being crunched by the weight of a car. He couldn't breathe, an oppressive weight was on his chest, he couldn't even move. Before his vision blacked out, he heard Kenny’s muffled voice yell out, 

“Oh, my god! He killed Kyle!”

He awoke minutes later, still on the ground, still barely able to breathe. He could hear Stan screaming at Cartman to get off of him. 

“Why should I? He's dead anyway!” Cartman wiggled a little to prove his point. Kyle almost passed out again when he heard a grunt and feel the weight suddenly disappear. He gasped for air and immediately felt a sharp pain in his chest and right arm. Stan's worried face peered down at him, his lips were moving but Kyle couldn't really hear what he was saying. He couldn't focus on anything but the pain he felt whenever he tried to breathe. 

Stan looked up and yelled something before kneeling beside Kyle. He leaned down towards Kyle’s ear. 

“I'm not gonna leave you, dude,” he whispered and held Kyle’s uninjured hand until an ambulance arrived.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kyle's premonition is based off season 8, episode 13 where he ends up blowing out some of the hospital lights while yelling due to supposed psychic energy! My hc is that after that episode, he gets premonitions through feelings, smells, tastes, etc. He doesn't accept that he's psychic, though, to him it's just him following his gut feelings.


	6. bitter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> definition: [adj.] (of people or their feelings or behavior) angry, hurt, or resentful because of one's bad experiences or a sense of unjust treatment.
> 
>  
> 
> *note: they're freshmen in high school and that is why they're so dramatic

The day that Kyle Broflovski decided to walk to school instead of ride the bus with his friends was because of the night before. That night had ended with him shaking and crying over something everyone but him would consider stupid. Still, he woke up the next morning two hours ahead of his alarm clock with a bitter pinch resting in his heart. He ground his teeth together the second his eyes opened, trying to pull back the tears that threatened to spill. He felt so stupid for crying, for the tears leaking out, for being so hurt in the first place. Kyle wasn't sad, not by a long shot, his chest felt like the result of a hate child with anger and hurt as its parents. It was a wet, messy feeling that made him shake, hyperventilate, and cry. 

The night before, he'd texted Stan, asking him to hang out. Kyle missed his best friend, he felt a bit neglected since high school started. They only shared lunch together, all of their classes ended up separate. Sure, both of them made classroom friends --acquaintances-- but Stan promised that he wouldn't just forget him. Except he did, at least that's what it felt like. So, yeah, Kyle messaged him and asked to hang out the next day, he just wanted to be around his best friend. Stan rejected him with some flimsy excuse of being busy, he saw right through that (Kyle wasn't fucking stupid, after all). He couldn't hold it in, he told Stan how lonely he was without him, how much he really did kinda miss him.  
Stan responded, so eloquently, 

"u act like we're dating lmao i can have other friends dude" 

When he received that, he stared incredulously at his phone screen. Suddenly, his thumbs were flying across the screen, moving on their own, making one big, disturbingly long paragraph when another message popped up. 

"lol are u typing up another lecture for me babe?" 

Kyle deleted it all, the pet name stung a little, he knew the other was mocking him. 

"fuck you stan"

It was delivered at 10:55pm, read by 11:10pm. Kyle knows because he watched and counted each minute tick by, refreshing his messages every two minutes. The response came ten minutes later, it was that stupid laughing-crying emoji. After that, Kyle broke down, angry tears sliding down his face with ease. He shut off his phone and curled into himself, he didn't know why Stan was acting like this. This wasn't his Super Best Friend, this wasn't his Stan. Kyle's fingers tugged at the roots of his hair as he cried and uttered curses at his supposed best friend. He forced himself to fall asleep when he didn't think he could take his raging emotions anymore. He fell asleep thinking 'it'll be better in the morning' over and over. 

It had not been better in the morning, of course. He cried and angrily put his clothes on, pulling his green hat on last. When he reached a lull in crying, it only started up again over the thought of Stan actually thinking his hat was dumb. A rush of hurt coursed through him and he threw his hat off, kicking it across the room. It died down as quickly as it came up and he picked it up and put it back on. He took a long, shaky breath and slung his bag over his shoulder. Fuck breakfast and fuck the bus, he was going to walk that day. 

Much to his luck, it was drizzling outside and the petrichor filled his lungs. He made sure to lock the door behind him and breathed in deep. It was five in the morning, pitch dark, quiet, and raining. The houses around him were illuminated only by the street lamps lining the neighborhood. Once more he inhaled, holding the breath in for a few seconds, and exhaled. Already he was feeling somewhat better, the sharp bitterness in his chest reduced to a dull ache. Then, he walked. 

Well, he speed walked to the point that it could be classified as jogging. Everything he felt earlier was pumping through his veins at that moment, he felt almost powerful. It was that weird time of night where everyone and everything was asleep, like everything was just barely rendered. Kyle liked it, he finally felt in control of what he was feeling. Halfway there his legs started burning with exertion, his body wasn't used to working this early. He didn't care, though, he decided to ignore and keep going. 

By the time he got to the school, everyone from the buses were already there, he knew that'd happen though. That's what he wanted to happen. There was still fifteen minutes before class started and he just needed to see how Stan was really feeling. Sometimes he said things over text that he never actually meant, Kyle understood that and was willing to forgive if that was the case. He quickly unlocked his locker and dared to look across the hall towards Stan's locker. He was standing there, surrounded by his (newer, less important) friends, laughing. To say that anger didn't boil up inside Kyle immediately was an understatement, what made him ultimately walk out of the school was when Stan looked at him and then ignored him. Kyle gritted his teeth, the fucker didn't even wave.   
So, like any hormonal teenager, he slammed his locker shut and left the building with clenched fists. He didn't want to be there, to think about it obsessively when it didn't even effect Stan. He was fast walking down the steps to the school when he ran into Kenny, who promptly turned around and began walking with him. There was only five more minutes before school started. They said nothing to each other, Kenny just walked quietly beside him. Kyle was glad for that, if anyone asked him what was wrong in that moment, he might have exploded into pure fury right then and there. 

Kenny just got it, he understood when someone only needed another presence around them. He was okay with that. They kept walking until they reached the woods, and they stopped. 

"Maybe we should turn back, I can't miss school, my mom will kill me." 

Kenny just watched him unravel a little with inquisitive eyes, waiting to speak up. 

"You know you can lie to her, right?"

Kyle balked, lying to his mom was never, ever a good idea. Somehow, every single time, she figured it out. 

"Just tell her they call whenever you're absent or late to class, dude." 

"Do they actually do that?" 

Kenny rolled his eyes and plunged into the thicket of trees, Kyle quickly followed behind, solidifying his fate. Neither of them said anything as they trampled through the woods, and he was grateful for that once again. He didn't know where exactly they were going, the woods weren't his forte, so to speak, but he didn't question it. As far as he knew, only certain types of people went into these woods and it was never the right type. Kyle tried to walk lightly, he felt as if he were intruding in on a secret. 

Within the woods was a slew of strange items that shouldn't belong in nature. An oddly green toilet, blankets, a soggy mattress or two, a street lamp, and a set of stairs that led to nowhere was scattered about the area. Kyle felt unease every time he saw something like that, still he never questioned Kenny. He knew what he was doing and Kyle didn't have the guts to run off. 

After twenty minutes of walking, a small clearing came into view. It had a tent and a rotting tree stump, Kenny walked ahead and opened the tent. He motioned for Kyle to follow, climbing inside. When he stepped inside, Kenny was already opening a jar and the smell of skunk filled the tent. 

"Zip it up," he said, breaking the silence. 

"I've never smoked before." 

"And you never skipped before either, yet here we are." 

He couldn't argue against that. As Kenny rolled a joint, he couldn't help but notice the abundance of food in the corner of the tent. 

"How did you afford all this, dude, I thought you were poor." 

Kenny just laughed and kept working at the papers. Kyle felt his face flush, of course he didn't buy all of this. Once the joint was ready, Kenny reached behind him and pulled out two water bottles, he handed one to Kyle. 

"You know how to smoke a cigarette? You do it just like that, basically."

With that, he lit the joint and took a hit before handing it to Kyle. His first hit was reminiscent of when they tried a cigarette for the first time: extremely uneventful. He coughed for at least a minute, gasping and pounding at his chest. Kenny just snickered and took the joint back. After that, he got the hang of it, sucking on it with ease. His eyes felt heavy, it was like his head was filled with a light buzzing. His anger rapidly dissipated, replaced with small giggles and a dopey smile.

Soon, they were laughing over nothing, the mere thought of existing was funny to them. Kyle hadn't felt this happy in months, it was like a heavy veil had been lifted from his eyes. He almost felt sad when the joint was finished, not knowing how long he'd feel this way. Kenny dug around in the pile of food for a second before pulling out a package of cookies. He handed one to Kyle after eating three himself. 

"What the fuck, dude, these are small as shit, give me another," Kyle protested, only to be met with laughter. 

"Trust me, anymore than one would knock you into Mars, just eat it." 

It was not a very good cookie, if Kyle had to rank it out of ten, he'd give it a solid two. Still, the taste left him wanting something more; in fact, he became ravenous. He gazed longingly at the Pringle's can at the top of the pile. If he thought hard enough, he could taste it on the tip of his tongue. When Kenny tossed it to him, he vowed to kiss the ground his friend walked on for eternity. Just one chip elicited a moan from him,

"This is so fucking good, dude, who made these? I wanna suck his dick to thank him."

What he said wasn't necessarily funny, but Kenny burst out laughing anyway, snorting and wiping a tear out from under his eye. 

"Don't be such a fag, Kyle."

"Like you're not?" 

They dissolved into a fit of giggles, Kyle almost choking on his chips. To any outsider, that might have gotten any chuckle or two, but to them, it was top tier comedy. For an hour, they stayed inside that tent, laughing and filling up on junk food. Once his high calmed down, he felt vaguely sick and his head hurt a little. His eyes drooped as he suddenly found himself lying down. 

"Don't die on me yet, the edibles haven't even kicked in yet." 

"The what?"

"The pot cookies, dude."

The synapses in his brain fired and it connected. Kenny hadn't given him a gross cookie, he had given him a gross pot cookie. 

"Oh, shit," he said as he struggled to sit up. He could do this, he could stay awake. To his own surprise, he did stay awake until the edibles kicked in. It was similar to the joint, but the high felt heavier. 

Somehow, he blinked and his head was in Kenny's lap, his hat laying on his stomach. Kenny's hands were threading through Kyle's hair and he felt better. Way better than he had this morning, he felt content and safe despite being in a flimsy tent in the middle of the woods. He doesn't know how or when, but he's spilling every detail of the previous night, his chest feeling lighter with each word said. Kenny just listened and played with Kyle's curls, humming every so often in acknowledgment. Only when he was finished, once every feeling he felt was out in the air, did Kenny speak. 

"He's been such a dick lately, but you do kinda sound like a clingy girlfriend." 

"Fuck, do I?" 

Silence was his answer, he accepted it and its implications. He was fine with the conclusion he came to about Stan. He didn't go home that night, he and Kenny stayed in the tent until the next day, laughing, talking, and eventually sleeping. They both woke up around noon, and he felt peaceful still. He knew his mother was going to kick his ass, but he couldn't bring himself to actually care this time. They stayed at the clearing for two days longer than anticipated, just talking and smoking.

"Yeah," Kenny stated at one point, "I usually come here when my parents are fighting, I take Karen to a friend's house first, though."

He didn't know how long Kenny had been doing this exactly, nor did he learn how Kenny had acquired the weed, but he didn't really care. They talked about everything, from their sexuality, to Kenny's fear of being forgotten, to their shitty dads, to how water isn't actually wet. 

When he finally walked in his door, his mother ran to him and hugged him. Her tears soaked through his shirt and she asked if drug dealers kidnapped him. He forgot how much he smelt like weed. For the first time in his life, he lied to his mother with complete confidence, and she believed him. She didn't yell at him once for an entire week after that. When Kyle finally turned his phone back on after three days, he was surprised to see so many worried messages and voicemails from Stan. He saved every voicemail and told Stan that he was okay and home safe. Distantly, he wondered if anyone worried about Kenny while he was gone. 

Kyle never once mentioned that clearing, he didn't intend to. That was something secret, something that wasn't his to share.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like this jumps to high school too quickly but c'est la vie, mon ami   
> also kenny? an absolute angel? it's more likely than u think!!!!


	7. dream

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> definition: [noun] a series of thoughts, images, and sensations occurring in a person's mind during sleep

Kyle didn't realize he dreamt about Stan until he was sitting in his third period math class. He and Stan were working on a worksheet together when he was assaulted with a small glimpse of his dream. 

He was against a wall, Stan's tongue was in his mouth. 

He shook it off, that wasn't something he wanted to think about, especially not when his friend was right there. Besides, it wasn't like he was gay or anything. He was straight, he liked girls, just because he dreamed about that doesn't mean he was actually into guys. At least, that was his rationalization of it. 

"Hey, dude, how do we do this again?" Stan asked, breaking Kyle out of his reverie. He looked over at the problem, it was an algebra equation. He quickly went over the steps to do the problem, creating his own example just to make sure Stan actually retained what he said. His hand brushed up against his friend's and suddenly another flash of his dream flooded his mind.

Stan's hand was on his ass, the other was threaded in his hair, pulling his head back so his neck was exposed. He was moaning, enjoying the attention. Kyle could feel himself about to ask for-

"No," Kyle said firmly, trying to regain his focus. 

"What?"

"Nothing, just thinking out loud."

It was a shitty excuse that didn't really explain anything, but they both accepted it as it was. Stan didn't really care that much, Kyle just didn't want to think about it anymore. By the time the bell rang, he was considering making a deal with Jesus to convert as long as he erased the memory of that dream from his head.

Lunch wasn't any better, if anything, it was worse. Stan and Wendy had gotten more touchy feely over seven or so years of on and off dating. Things like holding hands and putting his arm around her shoulder of all things. Kyle was a weird ball of nerves and jealousy that made it a little hard to eat. A small, heavily buried down voice shouted about how it should be Kyle holding his hand. How it should be Kyle that he wrapped his arm around. How it should be Kyle dating him. Kyle ignored it and stabbed his fork into the pathetic excuse the school had the audacity to call food.

Gym was like God had it out for him. He was almost too distracted to kick the ball in front of him half the time. Between the dream and seeing Stan run, he couldn't think straight. When they went to shower, Kyle sat in front of his gym locker and forced himself to stare at the ground until everyone left, scared of what he might think about next. He was glad it was his last class of the day. 

By the time Kyle got home, he felt like he was going crazy. The entire day he couldn't look at Stan without seeing him as he did in his dream. Everything he did to make it stop ended up failing or making it worse. All of his other options were exhausted, leaving only one last thing he could think to do: talk to his mom about it. It took him a good hour to muster up the courage to ask her about it. He went over what he wanted to say over in his head until the words felt foreign and stale. 

"Hey, uh, mom?" 

"Yes, bubbe?" 

She was doing the dishes, Ike was nowhere to be seen and neither was his father. Kyle was fine with that at this moment. 

"Have you ever had a weird dream about someone who's, like, close to you and you can't see them the same way?" 

The inside of Kyle's cheek was raw from his anxious biting. He couldn't keep his hands in one spot, his heart was caught in his throat. 

"Of course, everyone has them at some point or another. It goes away after a few days usually." 

Relief flooded his body and he tuned out the long, overdrawn story his mom started about her sister. Learning that was confirmation that he definitely was not gay. How he was feeling would go away and he'd be normal again. For the first time that day since third period, he smiled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> im... not really proud of this chapter but it's been a long time since I updated so uh yeah

**Author's Note:**

> first of all, thank you for reading 
> 
> secondly, this is a challenge for me to learn how to write multipart fics. the beginning chapters will be short, but the chapters should get longer as time goes on. each chapter is based on one word, the chapter may just include the word or be centered around the word. I will post multiple chapters at once.
> 
> thirdly, I am slow at updating so I will not have a set schedule, but I do plan to update weekly if all goes well. please be patient with me 
> 
> fourthly, while this is generally a linear progression, some chapters may be a flashback, I'll let you know in the notes if it is. I will also put the definition of each prompt in the notes, just for funsies 
> 
> finally, please enjoy and feel free to leave feedback! I love learning how to make my writing better!


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